


hiraeth

by ungodlyi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, Character Study, F/F, F/M, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:26:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27912994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ungodlyi/pseuds/ungodlyi
Summary: hiraeth (n)-a homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was.a collection of short stories narrated by those part of the marauder era.





	1. preface.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**d i s c l a i m e r**

all characters belong to JK ROWLING, they are obviously not my own.

this book is based off headcanons that i've created with my friends. the portrayal is heavily inspired by my friends who have taken a character for their own and developed them into their own person.

despite, this book being based off personal headcanons and worldbuilding, i have tried to stick to the canon universe as close as possible (excludes aus, etc).  
  
  


this book will be edited after completion.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


. . .  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**a u t h o r ' s n o t e . . .**

hi hi hi, thank you for checking out this book. if you're clicking on this then i certainly hope you love the marauders and the potterverse as much as i do.  
  
  


i have so many ideas that i needed to write down so here i am, creating this book. i would like to send my deepest gratification to the people i've met during my time in the marauders community as they are my current muse for this book.  
  
  


the original plan was to write a story for the marauders, however, most of my pieces are peter pettigrew centric ( by this, i mean, there is a number of pieces which have been written from his pov.) however, there are a few pieces which are told from the perspective of other members. there are also numerous pieces which do not have a specific pov.  
  
  


this series, despite being " peter centric ", will focus on the friendship and bond between the characters in the marauder's era. it's not pretty, it's raw. ( or at least, i'd like to believe so.)  
  
  


_love, kaliyanei._   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


. . .  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**d e d i c a t i o n**

( mugglesborns, halfbloods and purebloods . . . )

 _dedicated to_ those who believe that the marauders era deserves a netflix tv series.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


. . .  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**i n s p i r a t i o n**

_inspired by the ones who never failed to make me laugh and write better, do better, be better._   
  
  
  
  
  


the marauders' community  
  
  
  
  
  


but especially . . .  
  
  


cleo

eden

haven

ida

jana

liv

sarah

shrimp

tara  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


. . .  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**e n d**

so without further ado, let me present to you

the wonderful world of the marauders  
  
  
  
  
  


_' h i r a e t h . . . '_   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


⠀


	2. mirror, mirror.

PETER PETTIGREW.

based straight after the death of the potters.

. . .

𝗪𝗘𝗧.

 _"You could have saved us." She whispered, pale lips dragging along his ear lobe, causing him to recoil from her touch. Her hair flickered just as wildly as it did when he first saw her; they surrounded her in a halo of raging fire. He shuddered, eyes flickering up then glued themselves to the ground. It was undeniably her. "Thought we were friends. Aren't we friends, Pete?" The curve of the flame's lips, a blinding million-dollar smile, caused the missing warmth to stream into his blood. It was almost like flowers blooming inside of him._ _Her hot breath fanning his ear, lips ghosting his skin, and suddenly the lines between reality and illusion had blurred. He missed her, missed the warmth she provided._  
  
  


𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞.

_"After everything we've been through, you'd think that we were." The familiar chuckle caused his heart to beat against his chest. Peter knew that laugh. How many times had he prayed to hear that laugh again? How many times had he prayed that he was / still / alive? Hot breath creasing his ear, drawing a shiver from the frozen man. Cold fingers traced an odd pattern down his flushed cheek before they dug their nails into his shoulder, twisting his body so he could face their_ **_inimical_ ** _eyes. The soft, loving tone switched into a mocking jeer, "Look at me Wormy, look at what you did." A hand, cold as the blazing arctic wind, tilted his head up and he was staring into the lifeless eyes of James Potter and Lily Evans. Their words were ingrained into his mind, just like their bodies. Oh Merlin. Their blooded, lifeless bodies lying on the floor, a blank stare in their eyes yet the corner of their lips curved into a smile. He could taste the bile rising._   
  
  


𝗤𝗨𝗜𝗘𝗧.

The moonlight seeped through the holes of the translucent drapes, illuminating the dim apartment. His fingers curled into a white-knuckled grip as his lungs tore at his gaping chest—gasping for air. The torn voile blew soundlessly in the background; he had forgotten to close the windows again. The presence of the moon used to bring him such joy, a sense of comfort, a reminder of the 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 and now, it just felt heavy.  
  
  


A shiver ran down his spin, he could feel the wind turning his blood to ice. He had frozen snowflakes dangling from his eyelash, still faintly moist. It took him a while to register the fact that he was crying, the tears had imperceptibly streamed down his face.  
  
  


𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗗.

The cold wood bought out a wrecked laugh from his cracked lips. His heart arched for it all to be a dream and that when he closed his eyes then opened them again, he would be in the safety of his bed in the Gryffindor dorms. A swipe of his tongue across his bottom lip, the tears left a lingering bitter taste of salt.   
  
  


𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒉𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 _?_  
  
  


The reality of war had finally hit home. The war had forced children to fight, to bleed blood, to lose their innocence, to learn how to survive not thrive. Look at him now. He was a shell of what he used to be. Barely out of Hogwarts yet expected to bleed for a cause he hardly saw winning. Staring at himself through the broken shards of his mirror, Peter could barely recognise himself. A sickly pale figure stood in place of the once bright eyed boy—the blanket of darkness had swaddled him, it was mother cradling her new born son, cooing and coaxing him to sleep.  
  
  


The brunette thought that he had escaped the darkness that used to consume his every thought, but he hadn't. It came in violent, relentless waves—consuming him until he felt like this may be his last breath. He was at its mercy, and for now he was contently drowning, allowing his grief to control his strings. He deserved it. After what he did. It was what he deserved.  
  
  


"It's going to be okay." He croaked. The words burnt his throat. Every syllable hurt. It hurt to breathe. A thousand knives stabbing into his heart. That's what it felt like every time he gasped for breath. This fraud in the mirror stared back at him with their blank eyes, sullen face. He looked emotionless, almost dead. "We're going to be okay." The mutter of his words caused the boy in the mirror to smirk back him, it sent a shiver down his spine. There was something sinister about the way the mirror leered back him... 𝙋𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙏𝙄𝘾...something unnatural.  
  
  


He sunk down to the ground, the wall barely supporting him as he slid down. The dirty denim jeans pressed against his pale face.

***

𝗟𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗘𝗥. 𝗦𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗦. 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗠𝗧𝗛.

He remembered that day well.  
  


He remembered being tackled to the ground by a hyperactive James Potter. The loud, boisterous laughter of Sirius Black ringing in the background, along with the sound of the exasperated yet fond sigh of Remus Lupin. The prefect was pretending to be annoyed with the rest of the marauders until the coast was clear then he struck, shoving Sirius on top of James before gracefully placing himself at the top of the 'dog pile.'  
  


He had spent his whole life battling his insecurity; telling himself he was just as good as the others despite not being as smart as Remus or as magically adept like James and Sirius, striving to be better because he / will / be better, preening under the compliments after successfully pulling them out of another detention.   
  


In this moment, under the crushing weight of the boys and laughter despite the pain, he had never felt more free and at home. The muffled groan came later when he told them that they were 'too heavy" which was followed by an indignant cry of "Are you calling me fat, Wormy?"  
  


The boys ended up tumbling around, play fighting, before they exhaustedly collapsed onto the ground where they laid and watched the clouds floated by, just content to be in each other's presences.  
  


𝗕𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱, echoed in his mind like a mantra.  
  


A sharp pain shot through his arm, jolting him backwards.  
  
  


His eyes widen at the sight in front of him. Blood was splattered on the mirror; the blood stain glass was barely holding onto the frame. He glanced down at his hands. He wondered when the pain went away, eyeing the pieces of glass stuck in his skin. He watched the blood trickle down his bruised knuckles in morbid fascination.  
  


𝗪𝗲'𝗹𝗹 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿. The voice agreed.  
  


_War was brewing and the future they feared had finally arrived._


	3. please forgive me.

PETER PETTIGREW

based before lily was pregnant.  
  
  


...  
  


October was always Peter's favourite time of year. It was the month where, at the end, he could be whomever he wanted to be. Over the few years he had known the marauders—the group consisting of James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and by default, Lily Evans—he had always been in the shadows. Though he supposed, at the time he didn't mind. He blended in with the surroundings.  
  
  


He bought the cup of tea to his mouth, careful not to sip to fast as it was still quite hot. He didn't want to burn himself. The other marauders and Evans sprawled across the room, chatting 'quietly' to each other. The mousy brown boy eyed the flame with fascination, he could feel the heat radiating from the fireplace from where he was seated.  
  
  


"Have you heard?" Sirius voice broke Peter from his thoughts, he struggled to pull his eyes from the flame. The comfort was unexpectedly welcoming, the power it radiated was enthralling. He twisted to face the others, keeping his head down though. "There's a traitor amongst us." Sirius' voice had cracked, almost pained.  
  
  


Peter's hearted started to pound against his chest, a slight stutter in a moment of panic, gaining a worried looked from Remus. He shook his head, 'don't worry about it' he mouthed, willing his heart to return to its usual rate. The forced smile came so easily to him that it had surprised him. He shifted his attention back to Sirius.  
  
  


The edge to Sirius' words and the glance at Remus who shifted uncomfortably on the floor was enough to put a real smile to the boy's face. He had spent weeks subtly bringing up the fact that Remus had been distant lately. It didn't take much to convince Sirius who the traitor may be.

> "𝙃𝙚𝙮, 𝙥𝙖𝙙𝙨. 𝙃𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮? 𝙃𝙚'𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙚𝙞𝙧𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙠𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬. 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙠𝙤𝙣?" It was the little things Peter said which lead Sirius to believe that he had been betrayed by his best friend. Peter 𝙒𝘼𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏 as dumb as everyone thought he was. His smile vanished as soon as it came.

  
  
  
  


"I bet it's that stupid Fletcher." James grumbled, arm around Lily as they sat in the love seat, "He's a bloody 𝘾𝙊𝙒𝘼𝙍𝘿 —" Peter flinched. "—I don't even know why Dumbledore let him in."  
  
  


"Honestly James, just because he walked in on us snog-"Lily began, patting James' chest with an eye roll. Though he could see the amusement dancing in those emerald orbs of hers. Lily Evans. Perfect Prefect Evans. 'Drop dead gorgeous' Evans. Lily bloody Evans. Her name left a bitter taste in his mouth. There was a point in his life where he, like the others, adored her. Loved her even. However, ever since she had started dating James, it felt like she was slowly replacing him as the fourth marauder. He bit his tongue to stop himself from saying something he'd regret, instead choosing that moment to observe the room.  
  
  


"It's not THAT!" James claimed, looking quite offended that Lily could even accuse him of something as petty as that. The rest knew better. It was definitely that.  
  
  


"Isn't it?" Remus asked an eyebrow raised as he looked in disbelief, oblivious to Sirius' heated glare and ignoring the ' _shut up_ ' from James.  
  
  


Peter looked up, "I don't think it's him." He muttered softly, all heads turned to him. He cleared his throat. Merlin, was it hot in here or was it just him? Peter swallowed thickly before opening his mouth, carefully placing his words, "He wouldn't, not with Dumbledore offering him protection from the dark lord..."  
  
  


"Yeah, come on Prongs." Sirius sat up straighter, "It's like accusing one of us betraying the order" Was that a hint of venom? Peter hid another secret smile behind his hand. Sirius did not know the art of subtlety.  
  
  


"It's nothing like that PADS!" James cried, unwrapping his arm from Lily and shooting up from his chair in outrage.  
  
  


_'Oh but it is James.' He thought to himself, tuning them out as he turned back towards the fire. "But is."_


	4. one day you will forgive me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on a headcanon between a friend.  
> where peter is a death eater and needs to prove himself.  
> tonight, peter distresses after the blood that he will soon spill.

PETER PETTIGREW.

based when the potters had gone into hiding.  
  
  
  
  


...

𝑭𝑬𝑨𝑹.

A 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕 that fiercely 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒘𝒆𝒅 at the cages of his chest, longing to be 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅.  
  
  


...

The gods had taken it upon themselves to create a barrier between Earth and the sky as grey clouds began to gather. It was almost as if they did not want to witness the scene that would soon be taking place, and Peter didn't blame them. The streets were bought to life with every splash of rain that touched the paths. There was a certain sadness to the way the rain fell, it did not pound against the ground, the rain could only be described as a soft drizzle, trickling down from the sky like tears. They were already mourning for a family that would not live long enough to witness the end of the waging war.  
  
  


Funny how, just mere hours ago, the sun had claimed the sky, using its sun-soaked brush to paint its canvas in swirls of magnificent orange, yellow and red. A reflection of the flame who had once been so bright and full of potential, only this reflection had been replaced. Now, the moon had claimed the throne amongst the clouds, its subjects scattered across the sky in an array of iridescent light around their king.   
  
  


Hidden amidst the blades of grass was the shadow of a mousey brown rat. His fur gleamed under the daunting glare of the moon as the rain pelted at his back. Everything seemed so much darker, older. The fence of the house seemed worn out, the vines entangled between the grills seemed to be fading away, its flowers curled in as the rat had approached them. It seemed that they too had feared the rat's presence. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating. The moon shrunk, causing the backyard to seem darker than usual.  
  
  


Peter had once revelled under the moonlight, three strange animals flocking beside him as they ran deeper into the night, but now, the presence of the moon only weighed upon him. His little head had lifted, nose twitching as the beady caramel eyes zeroed in on the huge house between the fence. The order to kill, to prove his loyalty, to show that he was / capable / of being worthy of 𝒉𝒊𝒔 favour were his only motivation to force himself between the hole underneath the fence. A quiet squeak of anticipation could be heard from the animal as it scurried past the gates.   
  
  


A flash of bright light cut through the moon's biting gaze. A human crouched on his knees was left in place for the rat. His lips parted as his bit down the simmering bile of guilt, his inner left arm reminded him what was at stake if the mission was a success. His arms outstretched as he forced himself up. The pain that was seared into his inner left arm, a brand that signed away his life to the devil, was ignored. It could not be seen, a trick....  
  
  


A silencing charm was cast around him before the sicking crack of his bones infected the air, causing a sob to escape his crackled lips. The cutting cursed aimed at his thigh tearing through the denim material. His fingers dipped into the crimson liquid before smearing the blood onto his clothes and face, running his fingers through his hair, now stained with blood.  
  
  


The charm was nullified.  
  
  


It was a struggle to get himself to the door. The rain had begun to pelt against his skin, anticipating the future. 𝑻𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒆. 𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆.   
  
  


The strikes of lightning illuminating the sky even more so. He had stumbled towards the white door, something hit him. It was achingly familiar, but he was certain he had never seen the house in his life. He bit his lip. There was something missing... He perished that thought, shoving his voice of reason down his throat as his slender fingers unconsciously skimmed over the invisible mark.  
  
  


𝑵𝒐 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔. Those brilliant blue eyes were hidden from view as his eyes lids closed, inhaling to will his heartbeat to slow down. He was / 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈/ to do this. The flickering embers of doubt were soon smothered, in replace was pure determination gleaming blue under the light of the moon.  
  
  


For the greater good, he promised himself and with that he raised his bloodied fist, pressing them against the door in sudden urgency.  
  
  


"Please..." His head whipping around to check for any danger, fist rapping against the door in more urgency. A strangled, panicked cry. "Help, please. It's Peter. Please. They're coming. They're coming." He pleaded; his body now pressed against the door.


End file.
